Usurping The Immortals
by Jac Danvers
Summary: There's safety in Panner's Trove, Idaho, or so they say. Eleanor Sheldon and Beatriz Vargas were thrown together by fate, but it was pure luck that they found other survivors in the wasteland. Now it's just a matter of finding a new start. Shane/OC, OC/OC


**Disclaimer: **The Walking Dead is not mine. However, my zombie escape plan for my place of employment is!

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><p><strong><span>Prologue<span>  
><strong>

**Vancouver, Canada**

**2 Days Post Outbreak**

"Maxine? Maxi?" the old man whispered hoarsely, not having spoken in several hours. Stooping low over the hospital bed, he tried his best to stay close to his wife. Long ago, he lost much of the agility he'd had in his youth, and dodging the IVs that decorated her wrinkled wrists was nigh on impossible. But he'd be damned if after forty-two years, he wasn't at his rightful place at Maxi's side.

Her chest stopped rising, the rhythm he'd fallen asleep to every night gone for the last time. Barry Shelton glanced away from the bed, tears filling his eyes. Maxi hadn't been whole in years- Alzheimer's had stolen his best girl away from him- but at least she remained unaffected by the strange fever that had been spreading like wildfire through Manitoba over the last two days. This was peaceful, gentle.

Common sense told him to call the nurse on duty, but these were his last moments alone with his wife, the last before their daughter Eleanor returned home and helped him plan the funeral. Leaning over the bed, he swept the neat white hair off her forehead and kissed her now-cold lips.

Suddenly, he was overtaken by a brief but sharp pain. He pulled away, his creaking muscles unused to the quick movement. Touching his lip, he looked at his hand and saw blood.

_How did that happen? _He mused. For a moment, Barry hoped Maxi would sit up, tell him it was all a joke and that she was fine. But he wasn't a man for false hope. Assuming that in the distraction of grief he'd bitten his lip, he took one last look at his wife, turned off the dim fluorescent light, and went to find the nurse.

In the darkness, a bony hand weakly tugged at the IV that kept it attached to the bed.

**OOO**

**Houston, Texas**

**5 Days Post Outbreak**

Stress? Julio Vargas thought he knew what stress was. Stress was state tests with standards just too high for the children in his class. Stress was trying to get through the school year with barely enough money for supplies. Stress was…

No he'd never known what stress was. Not until today.

Picking up the telephone in the nurse's office, which he'd been pacing in front of for nearly an hour, he could hear the scratches on the door of the closet behind him. _Damnit. Damn, damn, damn, _he thought as he dialed.

"Hello?"

"Bea?"

"Juls? Aren't you supposed to be at work?" For the first time in hours he chuckled, albeit bitterly. Despite her protests, his little sister had truly grown up to be his mother.

"Half day. Too many kids are sick. And if they're not sick, their parents are hesitant to send them in."

His sister snorted. "Jeeze. What is this, the second coming of swine flu? Give 'em some antibiotics and a tissue, and get 'em back to school!"

"I wish it was that simple," Julio replied, forcing another laugh as he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead.

Beatriz laughed, oblivious to his concern. "Listen, big bro. I wish I could chat, but I have to get to the airport. National security waits for no woman. I'll call you this weekend, alright? Send my love to Marisol and Noel, alright? Love you."

"Love you too, kiddo. Take care of yourself." He heard the line click off on the other end.

With a sigh, Julio settled back in his chair, watching the vans from the CDC surround the school, setting up the quarantine zone. He'd called everyone at this point- Beatriz, Marisol, Noel. As the scratching in the closet grew louder, he waited for the doctors to arrive, toying with the cloth bandage that covered where one of his kindergarteners had bitten his wrist.

**OOO**

**Berlin, Germany**

**10 Days Post Outbreak**

Although all ranks had been assembled, the mess hall was only half full. Lieutenant Joanna Crenshaw knew it was a sign of the trouble that was rapidly spreading through Europe, crippling government, defense, economy, life itself. She knew personally that her own heart had been trapped somewhere in her stomach for the last week, stress and worry overtaking her every moment. For the past four years, she'd lived in fear of IEDs, bullets, snipers, surviving day to day in the deserts of Afghanistan. And yet here they were, their biggest threat a mysterious disease that seemed to take hold of young and old.

It had been difficult to hide her fears from her thirteen year old daughter Alanna.

"I know you're all anxious to get back to the states and look after your families," Colonel Rutger Nesheiwat, the most senior living officer left in Berlin, addressed the ranks. "But let me assure you, I have been informed by the President himself that this… disease, although there are some reported cases in the US, is well under control. Therefore, he has asked that we stand by our friends in Europe and aid them however we can."

Joanna nodded, understanding their position. This epidemic made every disease she'd seen in her lifetime- AIDS, Ebola, H1N1, bird flu- look like a bed of roses. Thank God things were alright back home. She had to get Alanna out of the country while there was still time. Cutting short their first reunion in two years would be hard, but entirely worth it, if it kept her daughter safe.

"Colonel, just how bad is it here?" a worried voice rang out from the crowd. It was a young soldier, a fresh recruit maybe just out of high school. "This disease, is there a cure? What I mean to say is…"

"Are we having a modern-day Custer's Last Stand? I don't know, son. But it's our duty to protect those we can, and if we're called home, to protect the people of our great nation. So let's fight the good fight, troops. Dismissed!"

**OOO**

**Panner's Trove, Idaho**

**12 Days Post Outbreak**

"I think we can swing one more trip into town," Dan Short said, as the family settled in for dinner. Under the table, he kept a tight grip on his wife Melissa's hand. "We're pretty well stocked on food, and we've got plenty of water thanks to Cici's water purification setup. But I'd like to see what I can get down at Scheel's."

Across the table his sister-in law, eighteen year old Cecily Burke, grinned with pride at her contribution to their preparations, only to have her enthusiasm tempered by her mother's stern glare. "Don't think we won't be discussing _that _young lady." Sylvia turned back to Dan. "Do you want to wait for Tom to get home? He checked in tonight, he's almost to Iowa City with Rachel and Emanuel. They're stopping by Rachel's home to pick up her parents and sister, then coming straight up here. Do you think it can wait another day or so?"

Dan shook his head. "I think Cici and I should be alright. You said the cases were starting to pile up back in Boise. I'd rather be settled in here when all hell breaks loose. We'll hit up the camping department, see if we can get some extra arrows for the bows, supplies to better fence in the animals. In, out, and done."

Silence reigned over the table, the realization that they would soon cut themselves off from civilization creeping over them. Sylvia, abandoning what was left of her patients back at the hospital. The rest, abandoning their friends. They'd already lost contact with Dan's parents back in Wyoming, and so many neighbors were currently padlocked in the now-full morgue.

And Panner's Trove was hardly the worst hit.

"Mom," Cecily piped up, almost hesitant. "What about Daddy?"

Sylvia sighed, massaging her brow as her thoughts went to Sully, "He'll find a way back here. Your father always finds a way home."

**OOO**

**Vienna, Austria**

**15 Days Post Outbreak**

"I am NOT leaving our little girl behind!" Pamela Roddenberry screamed, holding the fragile toddler in her arms. Her forehead was emanating heat, hot like a stove top though the thermometer only read one hundred.

"What do you want me to do Pam?" her husband Greg shouted back, not caring that they might disturb the other guests in their hotel. He liked to think he was realistic, and realistically, the other guests were likely dead, dying, or the cause of death. "She got bit. Our baby got bit. And it's killing me that I couldn't protect her. But there's no way in hell that any airport is going to let us on a plane with her. We'll be lucky if we can find an airport that still has outgoing flights!"

Pam placed the baby on the bed, pulling her husband into the bathroom so they could argue without disturbing their daughter's rest. In her heart, she knew she was going to lose the baby girl she and Greg had struggled to conceive. They'd waited too long to try for children, and now their little miracle was dying.

"So your saying abandon her and save ourselves?" she hissed. "That's not going to happen, Gregory. Not an option. I don't give a shit if you get on a plane and head back to Buffalo, but I am NOT leaving her."

"WHAT ELSE CAN WE DO?" Gregory shouted, his throat clenching as he spoke the words. God, he'd do anything for his daughter… but this… this was too much.

"They're still flying out of Berlin. I heard it on the radio. Lord, Greg, we need to _try_. They're saying it hasn't hit the states. That there's a vaccine. We have to get her home. They can save her!"

Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair. How had it come to this? And how did they even know the rumors were true? Any way, there was no winning. Wouldn't it be better to hunker down, enjoy the time they had left together, with some tinge of normalcy?

"Please, Greg. It's our baby. We have to try." Pam was crying, inconsolable.

Unable to speak, he nodded his assent.

**OOO**

**Atlanta, Georgia**

**16 Days Post Outbreak**

"The hell you mean the airport isn't closed? Three planes have crashed in the last week. JFK was completely _destroyed_. Why the hell haven't they cut off air travel?" Beatriz Vargas shouted into the phone as she packed her car, eyes darting over her shoulders periodically to ensure any stray undead neighbors weren't sneaking up behind her. She didn't give a shit that it was her boss on the other end of the line. She'd been planning on heading for Houston today to get her sister-in-law and niece—all that was left of her meager family.

"The big wig fuckers don't want to give up a paycheck? All I know is that the last flights are coming in today. Bea, we need people here."

"I'm a fucking TSA worker! If we're not checking people in and out, why the hell do you need me? Especially since the place is practically run over with those things!" She pulled out of her driveway, swerving to avoid car parked haphazardly in the middle of the road. The steering wheel was covered in blood.

The line broke for a second, and she was convinced the cell towers had finally gone down. It wouldn't have been a surprise. "Bea, everyone else is _gone. _Dead. Abandoned. Attacking. We need you to work air traffic control, not check in. There's one last flight coming in tonight from Berlin. Land it, and you can haul out. I wouldn't… I wouldn't ask if I could do it myself. But I don't know if I'll last that long…"

"Paul, what?" Beatriz asked. She could leave, just run for it. She hadn't committed to anything. But a sense of duty instilled in her since birth was guilt tripping her.

"My wife… she… she died last night. Came back before we could stop her. I'm gonna end it for all of us. The kids… I can't make them go through this. Please, just get those people in safely. You're the only one left I can depend on, and I can't have it on my consciousness that I left them to die."

Beatriz sighed, starting to wonder if she had lost her mind, or if she'd always just been insane. "I'll be there Paul. God bless."

**OOO**

**Berlin, Germany**

**17 Days Post Outbreak**

"Stay on your guard, Ellie," Sullivan Burke, pilot of Air France flight 2745, whispered to the blonde flight attendant standing at the door. Eleanor Shelton could feel the worry lines wrinkling across her forehead, but she felt grateful that Sully was looking out for her. He was like a second father.

The entire crew knew they shouldn't be flying, but Air France was determined to get one last flight of refugees out of Europe. These people all thought they were going to safety in the US.

Lies.

They thought there was a vaccine.

Lies.

They thought there was an end in sight.

Lies.

Eleanor had lost contact with her parents in Vancouver almost fourteen days ago. She'd been on the road for almost three weeks, flying the world, watching the outbreak hit each state, each nation. Her ex-husband Russell had called seven days ago, while she was in Beijing. She was lucky that he'd stayed close to her parents after the divorce, and he checked on them while she was gone for long spurts. But this time, the gates of their senior community were locked and under guard by the Royal Canadian Guard.

Then she lost contact with Russell too.

_Smile. They don't know what's waiting for them, _she reminded herself.

"Welcome aboard!" she said cheerfully to the first passengers, a father and mother carrying their toddler. The little girl was a pretty blonde, sleeping on her mother's shoulder. "What an angel! You're so lucky she's so quiet for the trip!"

The mother smiled weakly, while the father just said, "Yup she's our little angel." They moved quickly to their seats. There was a delay of several seconds before an army officer arrived with a girl in her early teens.

The mother got on her knees, giving the girl a hug. "I love you so much, Alanna. I promise, I'll be home in a week or so, once things are settled down here."

The girl was trying to keep her face devoid of emotion, but Eleanor could see the tears coming. "Be careful mom!" she managed to sputter out, before giving her mother a bone crunching hug.

They separated, and the officer turned to Eleanor. "I know this is a lot to ask, but can you watch my daughter on the flight? Please, just make sure she's alright. If anything happens…well, this is my number on the base. Ask for Joanna Crenshaw, they'll know what it's about."

Unable to deny the woman- it was unlikely that she'd ever see her daughter again, after all- Eleanor took the sheet of paper she was handed, and put Alanna is the seat closest to her at the front of the plane.

This was going to be a long flight.

And that was without the worry of an undead hijacking.

**OOO**

**Just Outside Atlanta, Georgia**

**18 Days Post Outbreak**

Dale Hovarth glanced over his shoulder, worried, but not panicked. There was a certain level of comfort in knowing that he'd left the walkers miles behind them, just off exit twenty-nine on I-75. But as always, it was tempered. After all, despite the miles, there was always a chance a roving hoard of walking dead could amble out of the woods and make them all lunch. And it wasn't like Jim would be much help. He was a good man, the quiet type, but hell- he'd just seen his wife and boys torn to bits before his eyes and couldn't do a damn thing about it.

But that was the way of it these days, wasn't it?

He'd been hesitant to stop the RV at first. Much as he wanted to be a good neighbor, the good ole junk bucket had an engine that was temperamental about turning over in the best of times, and tempting fate in the middle of a highway teeming with corpses… well, it wouldn't be the worst choice he made since this started, but it would be up there. From his seat high above the stand-still traffic, he couldn't tell if the blonde woman leaning over the tire was dead or not. The girl standing next to her was frozen, her hands shaking uncontrollably just trying to keep a grip on the baseball bat she held, as if she was simultaneously prepared and unprepared to bash in the skull of the woman at the tire. _Just keep going, _the little voice in his head muttered.

But humanity- hell basic human decency, which he absolutely refused to give up- had taken over. He'd left Jim to examine the car, and picked up conversation with the charming sisters, Andrea and Amy.

"Don't think you're goin' much further in this, ma'am," Jim said politely over his shoulder, trying to tinker quietly with the pipes and tubing before him. Metal against metal was always loud, but nowadays, the slightest clink could be a death sentence.

"Damnit," Andrea muttered, pushing her sweaty blonde hair back off her neck. Obvious worry lines appeared on her forehead, despite the outward half smile she gave her sister. "Well, I guess we'll just have to head back for Atlanta." The optimism dripping from her voice was clearly false. They all knew Atlanta meant certain death.

The silence was broken by a rumbling overhead. They all turned their head up to the sky, watching as the large jet plane flew above them. It was flying low, maybe a thousand feet in the air, so close they could read "Air France" written on the side. Over the silent highway, the loud engines blasted, bouncing off the hills to reverberate over and over as the plane flew lower, heading for Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport**. **

"Oh my God," Jim muttered. "They're doomed."

Amy sputtered. "You don't think… there are people alive on there? People who don't know that Atlanta's gone?"

Andrea nodded, grabbing her sister's hand and squeezing.

"We have to get out of here," Dale said quickly, pulling them all from the first sign of normal life they'd seen in days. "That noise is going to draw the walkers out. We have to get away from here."

"But what about my car?" Andrea asked.

"Take your stuff, travel with us. Once we find a safe place… a safer place… to set up some sort of camp, we'll come back for it. Now grab your stuff, girls. We've gotta get out here."

In the distance, the plane disappeared on the horizon.

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><p><strong> Hey everybody! So this is my first go at a Walking Dead story. I'm obsessed with this show, and managed to hook most of my office on it [thus the zombie escape plan!]. I'm aiming for ShaneOC... and someone OC, I haven't quite decided who yet.**

**So this first chapter is a bit of an introduction to our main characters. Obviously, not everyone in this chapter is going to survive, but you've met the core cast that'll eventually meet up with Rick and Co. How they band together? You'll see that in flashbacks through the story. I'm really psyched about the characters backstories, and trying out some out of the ordinary pairings. I love Daryl (uber crush!) but I'm going to try and avoid pairing him up, since it seems to be done quite a bit. **

**Anyways, reviews are greatly appreciated. I always love any constructive criticism that you guys might have for me, and to get both positive and negative feedback! -Jac**


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